Fidelacchius
by ht57
Summary: Fidelacchius is a short story about the sword and a young man's faith set in Chicago in the Dresden Files during the novel Cold Days
1. Chapter 1

The Dresden Files/Codex Alera is copyright Jim Butcher. This story is licensed under the Creative Commons as derivative, noncommercial fiction.

**Title: **_Fidelacchius_  
**Author: Travis Holley**  
**Rating:** PG-13

**Canon:** Book  
**Spoilers:** "Cold Days"  
**Warnings:** graphic violence, some harsh language  
**Summary: Short story about the sword Fidelacchius and a young man's faith**

It was Halloween night and this street was fairly quiet. Brandon had been scoping the neighborhood all day for the right house to break in to. He'd narrowed his choices down to three. That was until two of the families got back from trick-or-treating. Brandon was starving, the last meal he ate being a half rotten apple from the garbage can across the street from the house he was now zeroing in on.

The mailbox read Murphy. Brandon kept track of the names of the owners of the houses he robbed. Not just the names either but addresses too. One day, when he was rich he planned on paying the money back.

Brandon never stole from anyone that was poor, and he never broke into any house with someone in it. This was a well maintained single floor house. The owner wasn't too flashy or too reserved. That meant practical. That meant the chance to score some useful stuff. Useful meant more money from a fence. See, the thieving world worked on the principle of whether something could move. Stones from jewelry could always move, solid electronics could move. People that were practical tended to shop better than flashy people. They tended to actually want things that worked well and took care of them too.

There was a security system, but Brandon knew computers. He built his own from scrap out of garbage cans and sold them for money. Being seventeen and having no education past the seventh grade put a serious damper on his ability to get a job with any of the local tech companies however. The fact that his homeless status left him incapable of showering regularly didn't do anything to help him out in that department either.

"You will never amount to a load of crap, you worthless loser!" His alcoholic father loved to scream at him before the old man died from exposure one night when he tried staggering home drunk in the middle of winter. Brandon shook his head to clear the thoughts away. It wouldn't do him a bit of good to go into this job unfocused.

Whoever the owner was, they weren't home by three o'clock in the morning. Brandon figured by that point, they weren't coming home. The bars closed around two and most people that were out celebrating had already made it back. Someone as practical as the owner of this house wasn't going to be staggering back in at four.

Brandon carefully moved through the shadows. His three years of training himself to move in darkness to feed his little brother and sister had taught him more than he ever wanted to know about sneaking around. He'd tried doing odd jobs but there wasn't really any money in it. And he had absolutely no intention of having his siblings wind up in a foster home with a child molester or an abuser. Some orphanages looked like maybe they were okay but he saw the feral look in some of the children's eyes there and he wasn't having it.

Kim and Daniel lived in an abandoned warehouse in an old industrial area that the business had dried up and blown away from. It was always really quiet out there and with the small grouping of offices being in the middle of the warehouse, no lights ever showed to the outside world. Perfect for a little home for his kid brother and sister. Brandon usually tried to hit houses that had kids roughly around Kim's and Daniel's ages so he could bring them toys to play with.

This house didn't have any kids living in it, but Brandon needed to score tonight or his brother and sister would go hungry tomorrow. It was a rough fall and summer hadn't been very easy what with monsters and such walking the streets. He could see how gaunt he was becoming and that meant soon enough, his brother and sister would be suffering too.

Brandon smoothly worked his way from shadow to shadow that covered only few spots on the lawn. The security lights were massive monstrosities. Brandon did make it through to the back door, only barely avoiding numerous tight spots where he nearly revealed himself. Whoever lived here had something they really wanted to protect.

Brandon breathed deeply, easing his fast beating heart, and standing just out of the light that illuminated the back door. A loud thump sounded out in the night down the street and Brandon looked up in panic. Just then, all the lights covering this neighborhood died. Brandon couldn't believe his luck!

Quickly, he knelt down in front of the door knob and began examining the lock. It was a fancier one, having two separate sets of pins for both the teeth and dimples etched into the side of the key. He pulled out a filed down key that was designed to fit the lock type and inserted it. Using a leather headed mallet from his set of tools, he sharply tapped on the back of the key a number of times, then tried turning it. The lock didn't budge. He tapped a few more times, tried again to turn the key with no luck.

Bump keys were his basic stock and trade in breaking into places but it appeared they might not work on this one. He pulled up the mallet one more time and tapped on the end of the key. He heard a small snick, and smiled. The last pin must have settled into place. He turned the key and the door opened!

Brandon smiled to himself and made his way inside quickly. He slung his back pack off and began looking around for things to snatch. In the kitchen, he found a utility drawer with an expensive high power led flashlight. It went into his pack. Nothing else in the kitchen appeared to have any worthwhile value. He made his way into the next room off the kitchen and found it to be the living area. A set of antique figurines sat on a fireplace ledge and he immediately stuffed them all into his bag. Those usually could fetch a nice price to the right fence and Brandon had taken his time to learn who all the best fences are. You didn't know who to sell to, you didn't make money.

Brandon moved around the room and spotted a quality entertainment system set up. The central piece fit into his bag so he unhooked it and placed it carefully inside. TVs and such were great but if you scored a really nice stereo component they could wind up fetching a better price. Everybody stole TVs, but very few realized there was a higher demand for the component pieces because of how cheap some places sold TVs.

Right after he finished placing the component into his bag, his eyes were drawn to the closet. There was something in there, he just knew it! Brandon moved quickly to the closet and tried to open the door. It was stuck.

He put the backpack down next to the closet door and gripped the handle with both hands for better leverage. At the second turn of the knob it opened up smoothly and Brandon almost fell from overcompensating. He swiftly regained his balance and peered inside. His eyes zeroed in on the back right hand corner and he moved aside the few coats blocking the view. A dim light from outside had filtered its way into the house and illuminated a two finger width wooden walking stick.

Brandon pulled his eyes away, disregarding the walking stick but found them returning on their own to it. Shaking his head, he quickly reached out and grasped the stick in his hand. Cold struck his arm like a lightning bolt! The entire closet was illuminated with a bright soft white light that came from the simple old walking stick. Brandon paid no attention to this, because at precisely that moment, alarms began going off! Somehow the power had come back on.

Brandon bolted through the living room, into the kitchen, and out the back door. He didn't even bother to close the door because he knew the alarm system model and this one didn't go off on its own. The police or the owner were the only ones that could shut the system down. Brandon had even bigger problems when he saw a Monoc Securities company van was speeding down the road! How in the name of God did they get there that fast?

Brandon, hurdled the backyard fence and ran through a darkened house's yard. The alarms were loud! The flood lights that switched on lit up almost the entire neighborhood like a baseball field they were so bright! Dogs began barking all over the place and Brandon could hear people behind him running into the house.

That was when Brandon realized his mistake. His backpack was still sitting in the living room and he was carrying the walking stick with him. The young thief was about to fling the stick away from him, but some deep core of who he was stopped him cold. He looked down at the stick in bewilderment but figured it didn't much matter anyway. Might as well get something out of the horribly ruined job.

Three hours later, Brandon was walking along the street as the sky was beginning to lighten. The city was starting to wake up, but the area he was walking through was still quite sleepy. Another hour and he would be in the warehouse district where he would have to face his brother and sister with the news that they were going to have to scrounge for some food and hit up the soup kitchens.

He hated having to do that and cursed himself for not disarming the security system while the power was out. That would have been a great haul. He could have fed his brother and sister for a week off of just the surround sound system component. Hopefully his luck would be better tonight, and tomorrow they would all be able to eat well.

Brandon was lost in thought, planning for tonight's run when something struck him as odd. He looked around and found that he was going to the wrong way to get back to the industrial area. Glancing around, he began working out where he was and the quickest way back on track. He didn't want his brother and sister to get too worried when they woke up this morning.

Finally getting his bearings, Brandon turned right down the next avenue and picked up the pace to hopefully make up some for the lost time.

"Help!" Brandon heard some woman scream. Brandon's eyes snapped up and he saw a scene out of a nightmare! Five frog like things were attacking an older lady out in front of an apartment complex. On instinct Brandon sprinted forward, bringing the stick up to guard position.

Brandon's father was a former Marine that at one time had been stationed in Okinawa for years. During the duty station, and before the old man had been so severely damaged by fighting that the Marine Corps had forcibly retired him, Brandon's father had studied under some of the greatest swordsmen that Okinawa had to offer. Brandon remembered those days fondly. That was before the drinking, before the beatings, before their mom had left never to be heard from again.

Brandon's father had been heralded as a natural by all of his instructors and the trait had passed right along to his son. For years, Brandon trained alongside his father and under his father's tutelage. It was only when the drinking started did those sessions turn brutal.

"Keep your guard up, you idiot!" His father would scream at him, smacking him hard across the back with the practice bokken. The bruising and welts were so bad at times that Brandon wasn't allowed by his mother to go to school.

These images flashed through Brandon's brain in an instant and he felt his anger build at the thoughts of the strong beating on the weak and helpless. This woman was old! She was easily outmatched by even one of these creatures and there were five attacking her! Righteous rage burned through his veins.

Images of him and his mother knelt against the side of his bed, begging God to bring back the man they remembered and loved so dearly flashed by. Prayers sent up on the wings of hundreds of tears spilling out of tired eyes. His mother had finally given up hope. Her faith had broken and he had found her packing her bags one day to leave.

"You, your sister, and your brother are coming with me. We can't stay here anymore." She told him, her eyes flat and dead.

The memory of what he did next was forever burned into his brain. He stood up and told her, "No."

"What did you say?" His mother had asked, completely shocked.

"He doesn't hurt them, he still makes money, and the only time he ever hits anyone is when I work with him with the sword. But I know it is going to get better!" Brandon had told her, fire in his voice.

"What makes you think that? It has been two years, Brandon and he's only getting worse! I'm not leaving you three in this house with that man!" His mother cried out at him.

"God will fix it! I know he will! He may not have answered our prayers yet, mom, but we can't lose faith!" Brandon yelled right back at her.

"Don't you dare talk to me about God! Do you know what God did? God took your father away, took my husband away and left us with that broken wreck." Tears were pouring out of his mother's eyes as she advanced toward him. "THAT IS NO GOD OF MINE!"

"Semper Fidelis." Brandon retorted.

"Oh, you fool! They beat that into your father's brain all the way through his training, almost every day I heard those words. I remember watching him teach them to you on his knee, telling you all about faith and how important it is. But you know what? What has it gotten us? A broken man! A broken home! I cry myself to sleep when I see the bruises he leaves on you! That isn't my husband, I don't owe that monster anything!" His mother turned and zipped up the suitcase.

"You aren't trying to take us away from danger, this isn't about us. This is about you. I hear you talking to your friends on the phone about how it is so hard for you. How you suffer so much. You don't talk about me, or Kim, or Daniel. You just talk about you. The only reason you keep me home from school is because you would be embarrassed if they saw the bruises! I heard you say it mother so don't even try and deny it." Brandon remembered the anger he felt then, raw and powerful. "You go! You leave us if you lost your faith! I will never lose mine! NOT EVER!"

His mother had left then and Brandon remembered watching her drive away. That same anger he felt that day flooded through him now looking at the scene before him. It was different now though. Something about it was changed. It felt keenly focused and seething below a tight web of self-control within him. Sights became sharper, smells became stronger and the very air around him crackled.

Time slowed down to his eyes and mind. The frog creatures looked almost like they were swimming through water with their movements. One of them held the woman's arm in a crushing grip and was bringing his other hand up to strike her and knock her unconscious.

Brandon leapt and brought the cane down with all of his might on the creature's wrist. Whatever passed for bones in its arms broke with a loud snap that greeted Brandon's more sensitive ears. The battle was joined!

Carol was scared nearly witless. She had been going out to buy some groceries when the five Fomor had attacked. All of the paranetters like her were aware of them, but these were the first she had ever seen in person. Talking about something, looking at pictures, reading about sightings and attacks meant nothing next to the real experience.

They were hideous froglike things that had no soul in their eyes. They had ambushed her when she came out of her apartment building. One had a tight, punishing grip on her arm and she had watched in slow motion as the thing's other hand came up to hit her. Before it had a chance to connect though, a young boy came flying through the air and smashed the arm with a stick.

Carol heard the monster's wrist break and winced when it howled in terrible pain. It let go of her on instinct and she dove for cover in a bush next to the apartment building then stared mesmerized as the scene played out before her.

The boy landed in a perfect fighting stance! Carol had been working with Karrin Murphy sometimes on different martial arts techniques and saw that this boy was quite accomplished in Kendo. When the creature swept its unbroken arm at him, the boy executed a flawless Tenkan to pivot away from the blow! The stick flowed like water as it smoothly deflected the strike away. Another monster reached in, quick as a snake and grasped the stick to pull it away. Part of the stick came away, revealing the flowing wavelike patterns in the steel.

Carol's breath caught! Could it be? Had Karrin finally found the blade a wielder? These questions rushed through her mind as she became even more engrossed in the battle. The Fomor that had pulled off the scabbard lifted it and rushed forward to attack the young man. With movements faster than even Carol's eyes could track, the blade was flicked up to strike position and shot downward.

The scabbard careened off the blade and went wide. With no wasted movements, the boy straightened the blade and stabbed so blindingly fast it almost appeared that he was in two places at once! At that moment, as the blade swiftly sank near to the hilt within the creature, Carol saw a nimbus of pure white light surround the young man.

Brandon twisted the grip in his hands and stepped back, sliding the blade out of the monster's now lifeless body. Years of training was flooding back into his mind so thick, he felt like he was floating weightless in a pool of memory. His dad's reassuring and calm voice leading his movements through the forms, the swordmasters looking on with only hinted at approval.

He ducked without thinking and watched as a webbed and clawed hand passed through the air where his head had been. Brandon stepped backward while his fingers easily flipped the blade to where it was pointing behind him. The tip sank at least a foot into the monster that had swung at him from behind. Twisting the handle just enough, he pulled the blade forward and it slid free.

The beast to his right was closing in and Brandon flipped the blade up back to striking position and slashed downward. All of his weight behind the edge of the blade as it cleaved into the skull of the froglike thing. The entire left side of the thing's head fell off as Brandon executed another Tenkan and was now facing the two remaining monsters. They both charged him at once!

Brandon shot forward, his left foot staying back while his right food lead. He brought the now brightly shining blade in a smooth arc down and to his left, flipped the blade back up, swept his right foot back behind him and while retreating cut another arc with the blade down and to his right. The battle was over. Five fresh froglike thing corpses lay on the ground at his feet.

He glanced around and examined the bodies again to be absolutely sure that the creatures weren't getting back up. None of them even twitched. Whatever queer effect the light was having on the sword was gone and it no longer was shining with its own light. Brandon still considered this incredibly strange but decided for now to ignore it. He looked around and saw the woman standing up out of the bushes and walking toward him unafraid.

"Son, where did you learn to fight like that?" She asked him.

"I was born and raised part of my life in Okinawa. I studied with and under my father who was a Marine stationed over there. He made it to Master level in Kendo before we left for the states." Brandon answered, picking up the scabbard. He carefully used a rag he had stuffed in his pocket earlier that day to wipe the blade down thoroughly before placing it back in the scabbard.

"May I ask, did Karrin Murphy give you that blade?" She asked, her eyes almost feverishly bright in intensity. Brandon almost stumbled from shock and tried to say something but only stammered. "Son, were you given the blade? Or did you steal it?"

Carol watched the young man after she asked the question. She didn't know why she had asked the question, but it felt right somehow. His reaction only confirmed the gut reaction. Someone had actually broken into Karrin's house and stolen one of the Swords of the Cross? The concept nearly floored her until she started really looking at the young man.

She could tell he was homeless. She had done so much volunteer work since her retirement from being a corporate finance specialist that she could spot all the signs. She asked him again. "I need you to tell me young man, did you take that blade from the home of Karrin Murphy?"

He sighed and lowered his head in resignation. "Yes, ma'am. I broke into her home when I saw she wasn't home tonight. I accidently ran out with the sword when the alarms started going off."

"Why would you do such a thing?" Carol asked him, making sure she gave him her best piercing gaze. The young man wilted back from it and stared at the ground.

"My sister, brother, and I live on our own. When my father died a few years back, we didn't have any family to take us in and I wasn't going to let my brother and sister wind up with some sicko like you hear about in the news. So we live in an abandoned building. No one will hire a kid that didn't even start eighth grade, so I took to stealing to feed us." The young man explained, tears beginning to fall freely. There had been too many painful memories flooding through him tonight and it was all too much to take.

"Oh, you poor thing!" Carol cried and moved in to hold him while he cried. They stayed like that for a good few minutes till Carol broke the contact and lifted his eyes to hers with her finger gently pushing up his chin.

"Look, if you give me back that sword, I promise to help you and your family. I am not a woman without means young man and I don't take someone saving my life lightly!" Carol told him. She watched as his eyes flicked to her large ornate and well maintained apartment building then flicked back to her. Carol knew she had her nice jewelry on today. For whatever reason she had decided to wear it this morning.

"You would do that ma'am?" The young man asked, choking back a sob. "Me, Kim, and Daniel? You will help us?"

Carol stood up very straight and nodded primly. "Of course, child. All you have to do is have a little faith."

Carol didn't miss the look of wide eyed awe flash across the young man's face and he choked back another sob. She wasn't sure what was going through his mind, but she got the gist when he handed over the sword cane. Carol swept the sword into her arms and turned to begin walking down the street.

"Come along then, no time to dawdle! Take me to your brother and sister and let's see what we can do for you three." Carol ordered in her best strong grandmother voice. He hurried and caught up with her, a look of wonder and hope flashing through his eyes. Carol smiled to herself. She pulled out her phone and sent a text message to Karrin Murphy saying, "I have _Fidelacchius _and an amazing story to tell you! By the way, if you aren't home yet, don't worry about the break in at your house. Amazingly enough, nothing other than the sword was taken from your home."


	2. Chapter 2

The Dresden Files/Codex Alera is copyright Jim Butcher. This story is licensed under the Creative Commons as derivative, noncommercial fiction.

Title: _Fidelacchius __Chapter 2_  
Author: Travis Holley  
Rating: PG-13

Canon: Book  
Spoilers: "Cold Days"  
Warnings: graphic violence, some harsh language  
Summary: Short story about the sword Fidelacchius and a young man's faith

Fidelacchius chapter 2

Brandon stared at the remnants of the building where Kim and Daniel had been staying. Whatever happened on Halloween, it spilled over to this neighborhood. Sheet metal that once acted as walls held up by iron girders hung like torn curtains over the massive amount of rubble. Brandon sprinted toward the building, ignoring Carol's cries for him to stop or wait. Kim and Daniel were in there!

He leapt over a fallen beam and ducked under a large concrete block teetering in the air at a dangerous angle. Rock crunched underneath his feet as he bolted his way quickly to the offices area. He soon reached the haphazard spaces they once called home.

"KIM! DANIEL! Where are you!?" Brandon cried out, his teenaged voice cracking.

"Bran?" A small voice asked, sounding muffled.

"Daniel? Where are you?" Brandon scrambled through the wreckage and pulled away more of the metal until he unearthed his brother. Brandon immediately inspected the young boy, looking for any injuries. Other than a few cuts and scrapes, he didn't see anything life threatening. "Where's Kim?"

"She's gone!" Daniel cried, burying his face into Brandon's chest. "Monsters came and grabbed her. I tried to stop them but they hurt me!"

"Monsters? Did they look like giant frogs?" Brandon asked.

Daniel shook his head. "They were cat things. They looked like Tigers that were people."

Carol was soon right there next to him and handed him her cell phone. Brandon looked at her really confused. She nodded toward the phone, miming him talking to whoever was on it. He put it up to his ear.

"Hello?" Brandon asked.

"Brandon? My name's Michael. What's happening?" The strange man asked.

Brandon forced a sob back down into his chest before answering. "My sister, my brother said cat things came and got her. I don't know what to do! The building is destroyed, they hurt my brother. Is this all because of this sword?"

The man on the other line stayed quiet for a minute. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. "Describe the sword to me."

"It's a samurai style blade disguised as a cane, and I think it glowed when I used it." Brandon answered.

"How did you get the sword?" The man asked, his tone strict.

"I stole it from some lady named Karrin's house. That's what Carol says her name is. Did they hurt my sister because of the sword? I am so sorry! I didn't even mean to take it, it just stayed in my hand when I ran out of the house!" Brandon pleaded with the stern man on the other end of the phone.

"Look, Brandon, calm down. Can you do that for me?" Michael asked him, his voice changing to soothing. Brandon took a deep breath and blew it out in a sigh. His training coming back, listening to his father telling him that to control the breath was to control the mind.

"Better, now look son, Carol is going to bring you to my house. I want you to bring your brother with you, okay?" Michael explained.

"Yes, sir." Brandon answered, his mind slowing down. This man would help. He felt it in the deepest parts of himself that whoever this was, Michael truly wanted to help.

"Okay, good. Please hand the phone back to Carol." Brandon handed the phone back to the older lady. She smiled reassuringly, even though Brandon wasn't really sure whether to be secure in that or not.

"Are you sure?" Carol asked, listening to whatever Michael was saying. After a brief pause she said, "Okay." Then she hung up the phone and put it back in her purse. "Come on back to my car. My friend wants to meet you." Brandon and Daniel clung to each other while they made their way back to the car. It didn't take long for the trio to get to the man Michael's house.

They got out of the car and made their way to the front door. It opened and a stout woman was standing there holding the door open for them. Her smile was warm and inviting, putting Brandon even more at ease. When the three of them walked into the kitchen with the smiling woman, Brandon saw a robust man with a strong jaw and soft eyes sitting at the table staring into some impossible middle distance. He turned and smiled at Brandon, but for whatever reason there was so much sadness in his eyes.

"Please put the sword on the table, Carol and please go with Charity to see to the little boy. Brandon and I have to have a talk." Michael's tone was easy, but there was no question of whether or not to obey. Carol placed the sword on the table and stepped out with Charity.

Brandon nodded to Daniel and smiled to put him at ease. His brother was still trying not to cry, but went with the two women. Brandon sat down across from Michael, something telling him that he was going to need to sit down. They sat across each other for a while before the man finally spoke.

"Do you know what this sword is?" Michael asked him, an odd place to begin.

Brandon shook his head, encouraging the older man to go on.

"When Jesus was taken from the cross, the three nails that were used to put him up there were taken and forged into three separate swords. They were taken to the farthest corners of the known world at the time and given to the noblest of warriors. These warriors were charged by their own faith and by the angels of God to take up these swords to fight against evil. This sword is called Fidelacchius, in Latin, that means faith. Do you have faith?" When Michael asked Brandon that question, the young man felt that it was the first time that an adult speaking about religion actually wanted an answer.

Normally throughout Brandon's life, he had always discovered that most people that ask that question aren't really looking for your answer. They were usually looking for their answer repeated back to them from someone else's mouth. They wanted whoever they were talking to not to have ideas of their own, merely to parrot what they said. Brandon was so shocked by this change that he sat there and thought about it for a moment before answering.

"When my dad was at his worst, my mom left us. I told her to go because she didn't want us. She wanted her life the way that she wanted to live it and that didn't involve us. I thought that God was just testing us. Testing our faith in him, in my father. But then, after she left, he got better or maybe worse." Brandon took a deep breath, letting the emotional strain bleed out with the air.

"He no longer hit me after mom left. He no longer screamed or yelled. But he did take to drinking more. For a few months, besides the drinking, everything was fine. Then he died on the way home from the bar. No one could tell us really how it happened. They say maybe he was so drunk he tripped and fell in the snow and because he was so drunk he passed out there. Whatever the reason was, he never came home. No one could find my mother, and a lot of people looked for her." Brandon stared at the blade lying encased on the table.

"My dad's family was all gone, and my mom's family too. I was fourteen and they were about to put the three of us into Foster care. I had heard about what happens in Foster families. Well, some of them. There are some really sick people out there. I took them and brought them to the old building and we lived there for three years. Until tonight when it was destroyed." Brandon swallowed before he continued, worried about if what he was going to say was going to offend the man.

"Right now, no. I don't have faith, sir. Why would God allow my sister, whose never hurt anyone in her life be taken by monsters? Why would we have to suffer without food, without clothes? What is God's lesson in that?" Brandon asked.

Michael sat there staring at the wall, while Brandon waited for an answer. The house was really nice and cozy. Brandon could feel the love this family bore engulfing him and easing him. He wasn't even really angry anymore. About this time, Michael cleared his throat.

"I carried one of the swords of the cross for most of my adult life. I worked as a carpenter, but my true job was to follow the hand of God and work as a defender of the weak and the innocent. God has to give free will to evil, just as much as he gives it to the good people of the world. Truth is, I don't know why you suffered. Maybe the Foster home that you and your brother and sister would have went to was a good one. Maybe it would have been bad." Brandon conceded that point, he did make that choice.

"All in all, whatever happened up until last night, you were allowed to live your life as you chose." Michael picked up a glass of what looked like iced tea and drank deeply. Brandon realized how thirsty he was and picked up the glass that he realized was sitting in front of him the whole time and hadn't been touched. It had to have been poured for him before he came into the kitchen.

"Just like the glass of tea that you just drank from, there is something being presented to you. It is a choice. You could have either drank the tea, or you could have left it there. That was your choice. We poured the tea to offer you that choice. We didn't know if you liked tea. We didn't know if you were allergic to it. What we did know is that when you came to our house, you were probably going to be thirsty seeing as how you have been squatting in an abandoned building for three years.

"What I have found when fighting for God is that he gives that choice. Now, maybe your sister never would have been taken by the Rakshasas if you had left with your mother or gone to the foster home or whatever. But chances are, no matter where you were, those creatures were going to take her. Sooner or later it was going to happen. This sword, Fidelacchius, is God's way of giving you a choice." Michael took another sip from the glass, then in a burst of motion, threw it against the wall! The glass shattered. Brandon sat there staring at Michael, stunned.

"Here is where things are going to get scary. You see, you didn't flinch when I threw the glass. You didn't cringe away, or run. You sat there, and I saw your eyes go to the sword. I don't know you, but I'm pretty sure that your thoughts were of how fast you could draw the blade to defend yourself and your little brother if this crazy man did something bad?" Michael asked him with raised eyebrows.

Brandon nodded, not knowing what else to do. That was almost exactly what he thought about doing.

"And see, you are incredibly honest. Most would have denied having thoughts of having to hurt the person they were talking to that had so graciously admitted them into their home a minute before. The point I am driving at though is that you are a warrior. It is so deeply ingrained into everything that you are, that there is no escaping it. There is no way that no matter what you went through you wouldn't be a warrior or would ever lose that inside you. In a lot of ways, we are so very much alike." Michael shook his head and stared back at the wetness left by the glass smashing against the wall.

"Brandon, you can either take the sword into your hands right now and choose the life of a warrior sworn into the service of God, or you can go about your life. You may or may not get your sister back either way. But the choice that is laid in front of you is to swear yourself into God's service or not. It won't be easy, whichever you choose. But just like us pouring that glass of tea for a thirsty boy, the sword is being offered by God to a warrior that he believes can wield it." Michael stopped talking and stared back at the sword.

Brandon couldn't speak when Michael said that. He couldn't think. All he could do was stare at the sword and wonder. There was nothing pushing him either way. In fact the entire house had grown so quiet that Brandon held his own breath to prevent from disrupting the air of stillness. Picking up the sword would mean admitting to himself what some part of him had known for forever. He was an instrument to defend the weak. A weapon to defeat evil. Leaving the sword meant that he would be walking away from every dream he had ever had as a child. Telling the world he was going to be just like everyone else.

When Brandon reached out and clasped the handle of the sword, there was no flash this time. There were no lights or noises. What there was, was a distinct feeling of rightness. As if every confused thought in his mind now stilled. He knew without doubt who and what he was.

"There is a priest coming to pick you up and take you to the airport Brandon. Go wash up and change. My wife has laid out clothes for you that are my sons. You are about his size. Then come eat until the priest gets here. Welcome to the Knights of the Cross Brandon. May you always stay true, and may no enemy of good ever sway you from the path of righteousness." Michael smiled, stood up, and walked out of the room leaning heavily on a solid wooden cane.


	3. Chapter 3

The Dresden Files/Codex Alera is copyright Jim Butcher. This story is licensed under the Creative Commons as derivative, noncommercial fiction.

Title: _Fidelacchius __Chapter 3_  
Author: Travis Holley  
Rating: PG-13

Canon: Book  
Spoilers: "Cold Days"  
Warnings: graphic violence, some harsh language  
Summary: Short story about the sword Fidelacchius and a young man's faith

Fidelacchius chapter 3

Brandon watched the city roll by as the priest drove him toward the airport. The clothes weren't a tight fit, considering how thin he was from the lack of a constant diet, but Brandon was still rather uncomfortable. Everything was happening so fast and he didn't even know where he was going. Why would he need to go to the airport to find Kim? Had whatever the cat thing that the older man Michael called a Rakshasas taken her to some other state or something?

"What's wrong?" The reed thin priest driving the old sedan asked.

"Why am I getting onto a plane?" Brandon asked.

"I wish I knew. I was called and told to take you to the airport by a much more senior priest." The man answered, shaking his head. "I guess there is a flight that was prearranged for you."

Brandon felt extremely uncomfortable with that. He looked down at the cell phone that the priest had handed him before they left Michael's house. Someone was supposed to call him when he touched down wherever the plane was going to take him.

"It feels like everyone knows what's going on here except me." Brandon finally told the priest, after the silence had grown too heavy.

The priest laughed. "Tell me about it. I never knew the Catholic Church also offered taxi services."

Brandon didn't necessarily like the man's tone, but felt really uncomfortable about challenging him. They both remained silent until they managed to make it to the airport. The priest let him out at the private terminals.

"I'm told you're supposed to talk to someone named Raj. That's all I know." With that, the priest basically ignored Brandon as he got out of the car, then after the door was shut, sped off.

Brandon carried the case with him, along with a backpack that Charity had handed him. Upon inspection he found the backpack heavily laden with food, a couple changes of clothes, and a few basic toiletries. It seemed that ever since breaking in to that woman's house, he kept getting nothing but more questions instead of any real answers but at least people were being helpful now.

The reception area for the private terminal was empty of any travelers and the front information desk was also vacant. Brandon figured this was odd, but nothing about his situation was normal really. The concept that he had left his little brother with the man Michael weighed even more heavily on his heart, but for whatever reason he felt he could trust that family completely.

"You Brandon?" A medium height Indian man asked from off to his right.

"Yes, sir." Brandon answered, walking toward the man.

"I am Raj, I work for the Venatori." The man explained, extending his hand. "You don't know of the Venatori?" Brandon shook his head and couldn't take his eyes away from the pistol strapped to the man's side that he caught a glimpse of underneath the leather bomber jacket he wore.

"We have a long flight, so it's better that we have something to talk about, eh?" The man said and waved Brandon to follow him.

The large jet that they climbed up a set of stairs into turned out to be a cargo carrier. Crates and boxes were tightly packed against the walls of the interior. Brandon was shown a small hammock that was hung up between two large heavily secured containers.

"Settle in. It will be a minute while we take off." Raj smiled and walked toward the cockpit.

Brandon laid down in the hammock and before he knew it, he was fast asleep. When he woke, he heard the loud throaty sound of the jet engines and the sensation of motion. He walked toward the cockpit, feeling curious about the man Raj.

"There is the sleepy one!" Raj remarked, turning to face him in the copilot chair.

"Was I sleeping long?" Brandon asked, peering out the window and finding nothing but dark sky staring back at him.

"Only about twelve hours!" Raj commented, laughing.

"Sorry." Brandon looked down at the floor in embarrassment.

"Nonsense! Very few of us that are called to hunt find it easy when we first encounter those things that, how do you Americans say, go bump in the night." Raj smiled and turned toward the pilot. "This is my brother, Rahe. We fly cargo for the Venatori, best smugglers in the business!" Brandon watched as both men smiled proudly.

"What are the Venatori?" Brandon asked.

"We are hunters. Best way to explain it." A tall British man in a very expensive silk suit explained as he walked in from the back of the plane. "I saw you awaken, and didn't get a chance to introduce myself. I am Nathan Wellington the fourth." Brandon shook the offered hand.

"Isn't he a bit young to be running off to other countries to fight India's oldest terrors?" Rahe asked Nathan.

"They aren't all terrors, Rahe. Some of the Rakshasas are said to be proponents of peace." Raj admonished.

"Nonsense on the age also. This young man bested five Fomor single handed!" Nathan argued.

"I've trained since I was four in Kendo. I trained in Okinawa for eight years before my father was discharged and we came to live in the states. Luckily I had a sword when I saw them attacking that woman, Carol. If I wouldn't have had a sword, she would probably be dead." Brandon explained, uncomfortable with praise.

"Are we supposed to be less impressed, Brandon? You killed five Fomor with a sword when there are many that get slapped around by them when carrying much heavier weapons." Rahe asked, shaking his head. "Best strap in, we will be landing at the airstrip in another twenty minutes."

Brandon sat down in the offered folding seat and buckled up. The landing was a bit bumpy but it didn't bother him much. There was very little conversation until the plane was safely on the ground. When he disembarked, Brandon saw that they were on what could only be described as a somewhat paved private airstrip. There weren't any terminals and no tower to greet them. The mountainous terrain seemed devoid of human life.

"Where are we?" Brandon asked.

"Northern India." Rahe answered, following Brandon out of the aircraft. The man waved at a jeep that appeared from around some large boulders heading toward them. When they arrived, Brandon tried not to be shocked. The men were dressed in military fatigues and carrying enough weapons and ammunition for a small army in the jeep. He even noticed a rocket launcher hung on a weapon rack behind the driver.

"Good morning." Nathan greeted a tall spare man that stepped out of the passenger side.

"They arrived yesterday evening. The little girl appeared to be alive and she was bound and gagged." Brandon had seen the look in the man's eyes before. A number of his father's friends bore that look. Whoever this man was, he was no stranger to war and the darker side of humanity.

"Kim? You saw Kim?" Brandon asked, stepping closer. "Little girl about four feet tall with dark hair?"

"This is your contractor? You are mad if you think this boy is going to get into that compound." The man told Nathan.

"I have it on the word of someone I trust implicitly that he will." Nathan argued, setting his jaw.

"I won't have my men caring for a child while trying to save another child. This is dangerous enough." The man shook his head.

"Good, because your men aren't going in. Just him. You were asked to watch and report and get us to the grounds of the compound." Nathan explained. "Are you not going to honor your word?"

The dark Indian man with the hard eyes frowned. "I don't like this. I think it is offering this boy up to die. And these men here are smugglers."

"Sir, my sister doesn't know what's going on. She's probably scared out of her mind right now. I know I can get into any building I want to and I can fight." Brandon stood up and looked the man directly in the eye. He mustered every bit of courage he could with the challenge. After what felt like an hour, the hard eyed soldier finally relented.

"I will get you there, and give you what we know. After that, you are on your own until you get back out. Get in." He motioned to the back seat of the jeep.

Nathan followed Brandon into the back seat and the jeep left. "I thought I was supposed to get a phone call when I touched down?" Brandon asked him.

"I decided it was best if I came along." Nathan answered, watching the terrain roll by.

"How did you know they were coming here?" Brandon asked, still trying to get his bearings in the chaos of the situation.

"We were tracking the Rakshasas when it first came into Chicago. We had eyes on the building when you came and picked up your brother and I got a phone call from a very forceful Russian named Sanya telling me that we were to help you in any way we could in getting back your sister. The next phone call was from the man Michael telling me that you were being brought to his house. The rest you can figure out on your own." Nathan explained.

"That doesn't explain how you knew they were bringing her to India." Brandon countered.

"Rakshasas are very powerful creatures of magic from India. We hardly ever see them in the West so we had a Wizard track them and found they were using portals through our world and the Fairy realms to travel. He found where they crossed over here in India near a compound of a very wealthy and powerful man who we believe may be a dark sorcerer that is using ritual to gain influence with the Rakshasas." Nathan relayed.

"Dark sorcerer? Creatures of magic? Wizards?" Brandon's head began to swim with how crazy this all sounded.

"And a sword that mysteriously glows in the hands of a boy that fought off five incredibly dangerous and powerful monstrosities doesn't seem far-fetched to you, young man?" Nathan asked, his eyes alight with mischief.

"Sorry." Brandon remarked, turning his eyes away and staring at the mountains in the distance.

"Not at all. I had a son that would be your age if he was still alive." Nathan remarked. Brandon swung his head back around.

"What happened to him?" Brandon asked.

"Him and a number of his friends took a field trip with his academy to Mexico a few years back. When the body was returned to me, it was completely drained of blood." Nathan's eyes grew dark. "They told me it was an animal attack or some other such nonsense. So I started digging around and found reports of other things like this happening there. I tried to get the authorities involved, but they laughed at me for a fool. They told me I was insane with grief. That's when I was first approached by the Venatori.

"Ever since they showed me pictures of attacks by vampires and began introducing me to both the good and the bad of this clandestine supernatural community, I have made it my life's work to fight things like this man and his Indian demons." Nathan's voice had dropped in temperature so much that Brandon could almost feel the frost gathering in the air.

"I'm sorry about your son." Brandon offered. "My mother left us a few years back and then my father passed away."

Nathan reached over and patted Brandon on the back. "We will do everything we can to help you get your sister back, Brandon. I swear it."


	4. Chapter 4

The Dresden Files/Codex Alera is copyright Jim Butcher. This story is licensed under the Creative Commons as derivative, noncommercial fiction.

Title: _Fidelacchius __Chapter 4_  
Author: Travis Holley  
Rating: PG-13

Canon: Book  
Spoilers: "Cold Days"  
Warnings: graphic violence, some harsh language  
Summary: Short story about the sword Fidelacchius and a young man's faith

Fidelacchius chapter 4

Brandon stared at the fence, trying to figure out where to go from here. The Indian soldiers had provided him all the information they had on the compound including a territorial map, the security system description from the installation company, and their estimates of the number of guards and their weapons. Brandon felt the beginnings of self-doubt grow within him. Whatever was going to happen could kill him and Kim would be worse off than she was before all of this started.

"When your enemy has you outgunned, outthink them." Brandon remembered his father repeating this like a mantra to him whenever they would play chess. His dad never believed in letting Brandon win. He'd always told him that if he was going to be confident it was better to be confident because of something he earned, not something that was handed to him.

Brandon promised himself if he ever had a son of his own that he wouldn't do that. It may have made him stronger, but it also hurt like hell going through it. Brandon shook his head to clear away the memory and refocused on the fence. Infrared security cameras and climb sensors were placed every forty or fifty feet.

Brandon dug through his bag and pulled out a couple camera blinding guns he'd whipped together back in Chicago out of a couple of laser engravers. A stolen goods fence Brandon was working for had noticed the young man's intelligence and skill after working with him for a while and had set up a high end thief to train him. Brandon hadn't finished with his training yet, but he had picked up a lot of tricks from the older man.

One of those tricks was how to get by security set ups like this one. Brandon alternated blinding four cameras and using a sling shot to fling rocks at the fence. A couple guards came out to check out the problem. Brandon remained hidden until they left than repeated the process. He did this for around four or five hours until the guards no longer came out to the section of the fence.

Brandon smiled to himself. Now that they figured there was just something wrong with the electronics and would call for a technician, he had his chance. It took a couple minutes to clear the fence while his small camera blinders kept him invisible. Making it to the main building didn't take much effort after that. Usually with such tight security at the fence line, the rest of the compound wouldn't be heavily guarded and patrolled.

The main building was a different story. There were a few cameras placed around the building, offering very few blind spots for Brandon to work with. That, coupled with the two guards in watch towers put a damper on Brandon's spirit.

"The easiest way for you to be defeated is to force you to defeat yourself." An old Kendo instructor had at one time explained to Brandon. This advice rang through his head as he worked out a plan to get through the tight security of the building.

The master thief that was training Brandon had explained to him that usually, high end security systems all went to a central monitoring station. With the cameras on the fence having issues, he crossed his fingers and prayed that if he did the same to the house cameras that the person monitoring the system would pass it off as just more evidence of the security system bugging out.

He set up another camera blinder. The ones on the fence had another hour and a half until the batteries went dead so he had a limited time before he had to get out of there. After a brief waiting period, he watched the guard on the guard tower walk over and stare at the area where the camera was viewing. Another guard came out of the house and looked around. After only a few minutes, both wandered away. His gamble had paid off.

Brandon pulled out his shotgun microphone and listened to the various rooms along the side of the house he now had a good blind spot for. He'd made it using a two foot long piece of PVC pipe coated on the outside with noise deadening spray on covering commonly used in car stereo set ups to avoid that nasty reverb from the speaker boxes. A sensitive microphone and a good bit of wiring at the end of the pipe had left him with a microphone he could listen to ambient noise through walls and windows.

He finally found the room he was looking for. There didn't appear to be anyone inside of it. Brandon stuffed the microphone back into his bag and quickly snuck his way up to the wall. The guard towers were no longer in view and the camera that he had disabled afforded him the ability to make his way up two floors. Windows were usually wired in some form or fashion, but walls weren't.

Brandon pulled out a silenced cordless spiral saw and quickly cut out a section of wall between two studs he discovered with a stud finder he carried with him. It was less than two minutes and he was inside, the section of wall replaced and duct taped back on the inside to temporarily fool anyone looking up at the area. The insulation and the dry wall he stuffed back together, then moved a shelf quietly in front of the cut out section.

The next obstacle was the people inside the house. The shotgun microphone helped somewhat in keeping an ear out to see if there was anyone around the next corner. In the layout the Indian special forces unit had provided him, they had indicated a couple of rooms one level up that they figured his sister might be located in. Brandon made his way to the next floor up and discovered where they were keeping his sister.

A guard sat in a chair outside the door with a bored expression on his face. Brandon wanted to cry. He had no way to get past the guard with the possible exception of knocking the man out. Brandon was contemplating how to take the guard out of commission before he could get a call out when he listened to the guard check in via a hand held radio. After he checked in, Brandon watched the guard as a miracle happened. The man's eyes fluttered closed and his head drooped forward!

Brandon almost cried out with joy. Containing his enthusiasm, the young man snuck his way slowly down the passage until he was within an arm's length of the guard. The hand held radio was hooked onto the man's belt and an MP5 was leaned up against the wall. Brandon pulled out a stun gun and jolted him on the back of his neck while tightly holding onto the man's hair. The guard flopped around for a brief moment then went limp. Brandon held onto him and unlocked the door to the room. Upon entering, he saw his sister curled into a ball underneath the bed. Brandon held his finger to his lips, telling her to be quiet. The smile on her face almost broke his heart.

Brandon dragged the guard into the room and quickly zip tied his thumbs together behind his back followed by a piece of duct tape across his mouth, then slung the MP5 onto his shoulder and took his sister quickly back to the room he had broken into. After removing the drywall and insulation cut out, he cracked open the outside wall and peeked out. No guards could be seen moving around. Brandon breathed out a sigh of relief. He pulled the cut out section of wall into the room. He quietly whispered to his sister to hold onto him tight as he rigged up a line out of the hole.

Before repelling out, Brandon pulled out the one thing that the Indian spec ops team had given him. A small blasting cap with a timer on it. He set the timer for three minutes then tossed it out the door to the room. Brandon closed the door, picked up his sister, and repelled out the side of the wall.

They were three quarters of the way to the fence line when he heard the thump of the small explosion. The radio immediately livened up with chatter. Brandon had practiced a short phrase with the Indian spec ops team before he left for the compound. Now he had the chance to use it.

"They are heading toward the roof!" He called into the radio, hoping that someone would take the bait.

Kim and Brandon made it to the fence and had just cleared the section with the downed security cameras when Kim sucked in a breath in fear. Brandon turned away from the fence and saw the tiger headed person that Daniel had described.

"Well done! I would say your skill should be rewarded if it didn't interfere with my plans." The Rakshasas began walking toward them, its body moving with an almost impossible fluid grace.

"Stay behind me, Kim." Brandon instructed his sister, then turned to face the thing. He slung up the rifle and pulled the trigger. The gun failed to shoot.

"Humans and their technology. So easily rendered obsolete." It held up its paw like hand and released what could only be described as a ball of lightning toward Brandon. The ball veered sideways and splashed into a tree, leaving a large smoking scorch mark on the trunk.

Brandon pulled the samurai blade from the sheath. The creature froze in midstride. "Where did you get that sword?" It growled at him.

Brandon ignored the question and sank into a fighting stance, with the blade at guard position. The Rakshasas pulled out a long, curved sabre.

Sparks flew when the blades met, Brandon turning away a well-placed thrust. The creature slashed at him with blinding speed! Brandon barely managed to connect the two blades once more. Brandon paid close attention to the monster's queues as three more strikes came from different angles.

The thing was just preparing for another slash. Brandon took advantage of a very small opening and shot forward. His thrust met flesh and sank in barely two inches before the creature was able to leap back and save its lung from being punctured.

The look on the creature's face changed from that of a cat with a trapped mouse it was playing with, to a predator squaring off with an equally dangerous predator.

"You surprise me, I-," It began.

Brandon tucked into a roll, slashing out with the blade at the creature's leg. A thin line of red greeted the young man's inspection of his handiwork. The beast roared! Brandon barely dodged an insanely fast and strong swipe of the sabre, shifting to the right with a tenkan. Brandon brought the blade to strike position, then with every bit of strength he had and leaning into the strike, slashed downward.

The beast leapt backward, but not before Brandon's blade slashed off two fingers from the hand holding the sabre. With a deafening roar, the beast dropped the blade and charged! Brandon dropped to his knee and thrust out with the tip of his blade. The Rakshasas impaled itself, burying the blade all the way to the hilt.

Brandon's eyes were wide as he saw the Tiger head melt away, to be replaced with his mother's sad smile! "Mom?" He asked, his mind not being capable of processing what he was seeing. Kim screamed and ran over to their mother's side.

"I don't understand! Was this a trick?" Brandon stared into his mother's eyes, not being able to fathom what was going on.

"You had to be ready. We had to prepare you." His mother coughed, blood drained from the side of her mouth. "You have to go Brandon. They will come soon. The man I was working for will come after you, count on it."

"My God! I can't leave!" Brandon cried out, leaning over his mother, not knowing what to do to help her.

She reached up and held his face in her hand. "The royal bloodline of our kind runs through you! Your father never knew. Now GO! Don't make my sacrifice worth nothing." With that said, she shoved him back. Brandon fell backward, the sword smoothly leaving the now silent body of his mother. With a horrified expression on his face, he sheathed the blade, picked up the shocked into silence Kim, and left.


	5. Chapter 5

The Dresden Files/Codex Alera is copyright Jim Butcher. This story is licensed under the Creative Commons as derivative, noncommercial fiction.

Title: _Fidelacchius __Chapter 5_  
Author: Travis Holley  
Rating: PG-13

Canon: Book  
Spoilers: "Cold Days"  
Warnings: graphic violence, some harsh language  
Summary: Short story about the sword Fidelacchius and a young man's faith

Fidelacchius chapter 5

Brandon held Kim's hand as they ran from the compound fence and the gruesome site. His sister hadn't uttered a sound the entire time as they moved through the forest. Brandon was deathly afraid concerning how badly Kim must have been affected by discovering that their mother was some sort of creature out of nightmares and ancient myths. Unless that was merely an illusion built to hurt him.

But why? That question among others burned through his mind, his lungs scorched from the effort of keeping up such a hard pace. He picked Kim up when she started to fall behind, further burdening his overtaxed body.

The growl of engines revved up to their max speed flooded the area and Brandon skidded to a stop. He knelt down behind a large set of boulders and told Kim to stay quiet while easing his way around one of the boulders to see who was on their tail. The large jeep came into view and Brandon felt his jaw drop. Three huge dogs the size of ponies were being held by men in the compound guard uniforms.

The radio he had stolen was still patched in to their communications network so he was able to listen to the chatter. They had discovered that Kim was gone and it was now known that she was no longer in the compound. Brandon stayed quiet and watched the road. When the jeep slowed and stopped, Brandon pulled out his sword. Kim covered her mouth with her hands and her eyes were wide with terror.

"Shhh. I won't let them take you again, I promise." Brandon said to his sister and prepared.

Ear splitting howls bellowed out! Brandon closed his eyes for a brief second, stilling his body, slowing his mind by slowing his inhale and exhale to a crawl. The cleft in the large boulder they hid behind offered protection to his flanks and from above. Kim buried herself in the corner behind him. The first massive hound came tearing around the side of the boulder.

Brandon locked his eyes onto the monstrous thing. Within the things eyes, Brandon saw such a depth of hate and anger it nearly floored him. He shook his head to clear it of the strange knowledge. That had never happened before in his life.

Hold. He repeated in his mind while watching the thing come closer. Every instinct inside him was screaming to run toward it or away. He drew upon the strength it gave him and brought the sword into strike position. The beast jumped! Brandon saw the saliva glistening wetly on the giant teeth the length of his fingers. Hold! He screamed at himself.

The jaws opened wider, darkness greeting Brandon's eyes as he stared the beast down. Brandon cut! The blade slashed down and to the left. The beast yelped, then all sound died when the sword cleaved through the thing's skull and forced it to the rocky earth. Brandon wrenched the blade back up, then stabbed his blade forward, into the jaw of the second monster.

Brandon guided the now dead beast to his right and down. Slamming the body with its own force into the side of the boulder. Brandon's blade was soon in guard position, and the third hound like thing was now pacing back and forth, warily watching his every move. The first guard came around the edge of the boulder, raised his weapon, and fired!

Brandon had never stared down the barrel of a rifle before. This odd thought filtered through his brain as he fully expected a bullet to tear through him. Just then, a blinding light forced him to shield his eyes. He heard bullets ricocheting off the boulder, and he looked back on instinct. His sister was still safely curled into a ball in the rock cleft.

When he swung his eyes back forward, he saw the blade was glowing a brilliant white! Bullets were flying like mad, now that there were four guards from the jeep firing. None of them came close to Brandon. Then the unimaginable happened. All four guards and the beast froze. Brandon watched as a look of complete terror took over each expression, and even the monstrous hound was afraid. The group broke and ran! Brandon's jaw dropped in shocked awe and he turned to see what they were so afraid of. There was nothing there but his sister, still curled into a ball.

After a couple minutes, they didn't come back and Brandon had listened when the engine of the jeep had roared to life and sped off. Brandon sent up a silent prayer, wiped the black smoking blood of the two dead beasts off his blade, then sheathed it in the scabbard secured to his left hip. He walked back slow and easy and coaxed his sister out of her shocked state. Finally, she stood up slowly on her own and Brandon walked with her out of the boulder and toward the extraction point.

When they were safely picked up by the Indian special operations team, the grizzled vet that had so vehemently argued against Brandon going into the compound on his own was watching the young man's every move.

When Brandon could no longer take the scrutiny, he met the man's eyes. "What?" He asked the vet.

"I was wrong to doubt you." The man stated. This nearly shocked Brandon as much as the guards and hound running off for no apparent reason.

"Most career soldiers don't admit they're wrong." Brandon remarked.

"Most career soldiers aren't special forces." The man replied, a lopsided grin on his face. "You must tell me how you did this." He waved his hand in the general direction of the compound.

"How do you speak such clean English?" Brandon asked him, realizing the man's accent was so slight as to be barely noticeable.

"I first was brought into special forces because of my natural gift of tongues so to speak. I am very proficient at learning languages. When I saw you earlier going through your pack of gear, it was mostly all handmade electronics. Put together, how do you Americans say, with duct tape and bubble gum?" Brandon shared a laugh with the hard vet.

"When I was growing up, my father and I used to do robotics, machining, and computers together. He always told me that my mind was the ultimate weapon. Everything else is just an extension. And he also told me that when I realized that, I would never be unarmed." Brandon smiled at the memories flashing through his mind.

"Sounds like a great warrior, your father." The man said.

"He was. Until he was in a really bloody fire fight in Iraq. Lost his entire squad and was taken captive. They tortured him for a week before he was rescued. He was never the same since." Brandon choked on the last words, waves of emotion overtaking him.

"It is always hard losing those you love." A kindred moment of understanding of pain flashed between the two as they sat and watched the countryside roll by.

"Where's Mr. Wellington?" Brandon asked the man whenever the moment passed.

"He is back at the airstrip. We are taking you there now. Here." The man passed over a small slip of paper. Brandon unfolded it and saw the man's name, phone number, and email address was written there. "Keep that. Keep in contact if you have the chance to."

Brandon and the old vet nodded to each other. It wasn't very long before they made it to the airstrip. Brandon shook the old veteran's hand and they parted with a nod of respect passing between them. Nathan Wellington was waiting for Brandon inside the plane.

"Well done! Well done. I had very little doubt that you would make it out, seeing as how you have some very powerful friends but doing so is to be commended." The refined gentleman stated.

"I don't know what happened back there, but somehow we escaped a pretty tight spot. There were some huge beasts after us with a group of guards. They must have shot off over a hundred rounds and we managed to make it through unscathed. Do you know how that happened?" Brandon asked.

"There is someone that you should ask that question back in Chicago. She actually called and spoke with me briefly insisting that I get you in touch with her when you make it back. She had no doubts that you would be alive and well when you did so." Brandon frowned when Nathan told him this, but tabled the discussion for later. First things first, and that was to see to his sister.

"Kim? Kim, are you okay? Did they hurt you in any way while you were there?" He asked her while she was balled up in her seat on the plane so tight Brandon was surprised she didn't disappear altogether.

"Was that Mommy?" She asked him. Brandon almost broke when he saw the desperate look in her eye for him to explain what was happening. To make it all better and put everything back the way it should be.

He refused to lie to her. "I don't know, Kim. When it was dying, it looked like mom."

She shuddered. "I saw a lot of stuff that wasn't real there."

"What do you mean?" Brandon asked her, confused that his sister at her age would understand such a profound concept as illusion.

"I saw on TV that you died and Daniel died. They told me that I had a new family now. That creepy man and that thing that turned into mom. They all had guns and were mean, Brand!" She launched herself at him and he caught her in his arms, holding onto her tight. Brandon let her cry herself to sleep as the plane took off from the remote landing strip.

The next day saw them riding in a nice car with a driver. Nathan had explained to Brandon that they had set up a place for the three of them to live. The meeting with the older couple that was letting them into their homes were nice. Their son and two daughters had been taken by the Fomor six months ago and the couple were now working with the Venatori in Chicago because of the tragedy. Brandon saw a Monoc securities van parked in front of the large fenced in yard.

Brandon spoke with his sister and brother, and they decided to stay there with the couple. When he got the two of them settled in, Brandon was making his way down stairs when he heard the sound of a large motorcycle pulling in to the driveway.

"She's here to talk to you." Nathan informed him. "Her name is Karrin."

Brandon nodded and stepped out of the house. She was short, blonde, and extremely dangerous looking at first glance.

He remembered something his father had always said to him. "Any person you meet that walks around with the look on their face that there is nothing they can't handle is dangerous, Brandon. They may not be bad people, and they may not be really good people. But remember, those kind of people in one way or another are dangerous."

Brandon saw that look on this hard woman's face. He approached her as he would an unknown wild animal. Cautious and observant.

"So you're him." She said, shaking his hand in a rock firm grip. She wasn't aggressive, she wasn't passive. If Brandon could pin it down to a single description, he would say ultra-assertive. This woman was not to be trifled with. "Thief in training?" She asked.

Brandon blanched. "Sorry about your house." He told her.

She snorted out an ironic and quick laugh. "Don't ever apologize for something that wasn't your doing."

Brandon frowned and Karrin lifted her eyebrow. "Has anyone told you anything about that sword you're carrying? Or they just letting you run around trusting it implicitly?"

"Michael told me it was a Sword of the Cross and that I was now a Knight of the Cross." Brandon answered.

"That's it, huh? That's all anyone has told you?" She moved forward, an angry look on her face. "My god, you're just a kid!"

"I've been taking care of my brother and sister for three years on my own!" He shot back at her, losing his cool a bit but being careful not to be overly disrespectful.

"Yeah." She nodded. "And managed to put together a pretty impressive set of skills at being a thief while you were at it. Also, from what I've heard, you aren't necessarily at beginner level with a blade. But skills or no skills, you're still a kid." Brandon grimaced and then finally nodded in accession to her statement.

"Look, kid, I'm not here to put you down. I'm just pissed off that you were chosen. Two children to look after and being handed a job you couldn't possibly even fathom at your age." Karrin shook her head. When she saw the look of dissatisfaction on Brandon's face, she sighed. "It isn't you that I'm frustrated with." She informed him.

"Alright, so, someone should break it down to you and that's why I wanted to talk to you. Have you started relying on the blade yet?" She asked him.

Brandon was about to immediately respond but the look of intense concern on her face set him back on his heels. He thought through all the situations that he had been in so far and really thought about his own reactions. The way fear sort of stayed just beyond an impenetrable barrier from controlling him, the way his anger was webbed into a tight network of strength that he could draw from but didn't control him.

"I want to say no, but some of the things that have been going on with me since I picked it up aren't me." Brandon explained, looking into her eyes to see if she understood what he was saying. "Also, this thing everyone called a Rakshasas threw this ball of lightning at me and it veered away from me and off into a tree. Four guys were firing fully automatic weapons at me and missed every shot. I kinda felt like I was a star in an action movie or something."

"That's the blade. It screws with chance. Or it may be God like some people say. I don't really know." Karrin told him.

"My father always told me not to rely on extensions because the moment I did was the moment I died." Brandon told her. "He called anything that wasn't the mind an extension. The mind is the weapon, the extensions are just tools that it uses to translate your will into a battle. Albeit he was drunk and had just finished beating on me with a bokken at the time."

"We can't help who we love." Karrin said, her eyes clouded with some unpronounced and immediate pain. "You sound like Harry with what you said. He talks about magic the same way."

She shook her head to clear some image and the tight mask of pain. "Look, keep that in mind all the time. Don't get to the point where the sword controls you. You do have a choice in whether to listen to it. And also, don't allow the way the blade puts you on an equal footing with anyone you come across to confuse you into believing that with it you're bullet proof. That's the surest way to die with that thing in your hands. You get into a fight that the blade doesn't agree with and it won't stop you from getting killed or worse.

"That's why Michael walks with a cane now. You've met him. He took the sword into the wrong fight and bad things happened to him because of it. Don't get me wrong, he's made it through some hellacious scrapes from what I know and have seen. But the minute you take that blade somewhere it doesn't want to be, it will make sure you aren't able to wield it anymore."

Karrin's eyes bored into Brandon's. The intensity of her gaze reminded him of the intensity of his father's gaze after he had come back from that horrid nightmare in Iraq. This woman had been through hell and it hadn't softened her in the slightest. It also hadn't broken her like it did his father. Tears welled up in his eyes and he looked away from her.

"I'm not trying to scare you, Brandon." Karrin informed him, the tone of her voice softening so much that it doubled the speed of the tears. He looked into her eyes and the real, open, and honest concern he saw there broke open the flood gates. He barreled into her, throwing his arms around her while harsh sobs shook his body uncontrollably.

Karrin held him against her chest as he cried, trying not to let the power of his emotional release bowl her over. "You're safe now." She whispered to him, gently stroking the back of his head.

"What's happening to my life?" He cried into her shoulder. "What is all this?!"

Karrin didn't answer immediately and chose to simply hold the teenaged boy in her arms. Giving him the safety and security she could see in his eyes he was dying of thirst for. She rocked him gently for what felt like hours until the sobs finally eased up. "Damn this world for chewing you up like this." She whispered to herself and eased him out to arm's length.

He turned his eyes away from her, obviously ashamed of himself. She wasn't having that. "Look at me Brandon." She ordered.

He brought his eyes up to meet hers. He saw no pity or sorrow there. Only an impossibly deep well of strength that was being offered to him for the moment. His shame died away in the light of something so vast.

"Brandon, everyone needs to let go of their pain at times. We hold it in and it eats us alive. So we deal with it. Here's my number. If you need someone to scream at that you know can take it, you give me a call. Also, don't think you're getting away with not hitting the dojo with me." Karrin handed him a handwritten business card and smiled when Brandon chuckled out a small laugh at that statement. "Better. I have to go now, but give me a call tomorrow and we'll set something up, okay?"

"Thank you." Brandon said to her. Not knowing what else he could do or say.

"You're welcome. Just remember, you aren't alone." With that said, she mounted her hog and drove off.


End file.
